Used to wear these scars as a reminder of the shame when my weakness shone through, of when I broke and succumbed to the voices of self hatred, of when despondency took over and the only escape was this.

For the few who saw these scars I could sense, feel, smell even their revulsion coming through which almost mirrored the loathing I had for myself. All I knew, all that I had acceded was that each scar hid the ugliness within myself. It almost acted as a protective barrier, preventing others from seeing me from the way which I viewed myself.

But now, these marks no longer bother me. People can look, stare, mutter amongst themselves. But I no longer feel shame, no longer feel obliged to look them in the eye and ask for forgiveness.
And the reason why? Because I wear each scar as a badge of honour, a sense of pride of having come through those dark nights. Each scar I see as a battle I fought with myself and won.

Trigger warning

There are posts on this blog that could be triggering. I know that I often find it triggering to read others blogs. If you find this here, please stop reading. Please take care of yourself. You’re worth it.